


Tally

by xCastielsGirlx



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassins & Hitmen, Brainwashing, Drug Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xCastielsGirlx/pseuds/xCastielsGirlx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maximoff Ink didn't get many exciting patrons. But one day, in walks catholic boy Kurt Wagner, asking for a single tally mark on his wrist. Peter doesn't see the point in charging him for that first one, but as Kurt comes in more frequently, asking for more tallies, Peter can't help but wander what they're for.</p><p>There's also a new threat moving in on the street. One that could put Peter and Wanda in significant danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> based on writing-prompt-s from Tumblr promtp: You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

The bell tinkled as the door opened to Maximoff Ink, a vaguely-known tattoo parlour owned by the Maximoff twins. At the front desk, headphones on, head down and engrossed in a mobile game, was Peter Maximoff. He didn’t hear the customer enter, and as a shadow fell over the desk, he just held up one finger until he had finished his level before looking up to meet his new client. In front of him stood Kurt Wagner- not that Peter knew that of course.

Peter did a double-take, eyes widening.

Kurt’s eyes focused on the floor.

“Dude, I love your tail!” Peter blurted out, unable to control his impulsive thoughts. A weak smile graced Kurt’s lips.

“Danke,” was the quiet reply. Peter’s mouth snapped closed from where it had been hanging open and he cleared his throat.

“So, what can I do for you today?” he asked, trying to ignore his embarrassing slipup. Kurt was obviously nervous, wringing his hands together.

“I- I vould like a tattoo, o-obviously. How much vould it cost for a tally mark?” he stuttered out. Peter took a moment to regain himself after hearing the other’s cute German accent. The tattoo request in itself was an odd one- something he hadn’t heard before.

“Just the one?” he clarified, and Kurt nodded, eyes darting to the side. Peter frowned.

“Man, I’d feel bad charging for just a single line. You sure this is what you want?” he asked. Kurt nodded again, and Peter could see his nerves increasing. A glint of silver caught his eye, a cross on a chain.

‘ _Ah, he must be religious- that explains the nerves.’_ Peter straightened up and slid his chair over to the computer too see if he had any free spaces.

“You want it done today?” Peter asked, making note of his free hour. Kurt glanced at Peter and swallowed.

“Ja, if it is possible.” He replied politely. Peter just nodded.

“Of course- I’ve got a free hour. You okay for it to be done now?” he asked. Kurt just nodded once more. Peter glanced at Kurt from the corner of his eyes, narrowing them slightly- the kid seemed terrified.

“Okie dokie then.”

In a flash, a clipboard was in front of Kurt with a consent slip and a pen.

“Just have a read through that and sign at the bottom to confirm you’ve understood everything there,” he informed. Kurt read over the form for a while, eventually signing at the bottom and handing the slip back to Peter. He took this opportunity to learn the other’s name.

“Kurt Wagner? Cool name for a cool guy!” he complimented, trying to put Kurt at ease. It seemed to have the opposite effect however, as Kurt hunched his shoulders. Peter’s mind was struggling. Why would someone who obviously didn’t want a tattoo get one? He sighed quietly before turning to Kurt, his expression serious.

“Look, I usually don’t say this to people, because hey, I’m a tattoo artist and what people do with their own bodies is their own damn business, but are you sure you want this? You look ready to faint from just the thought of being inked,” Peter asked sincerely. This is what seemed to put Kurt at ease and fix his resolve.

“I need to get this,” he implored, and Peter nodded, standing from his desk.

“Okay then, if you want to follow me, I’ll get you seated and prepped.” He pulled a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the door leading to the chairs and equipment. Kurt followed, blue skin paling a little as he saw the chair. Peter made his way around the area setting up equipment with practiced ease.

“What colour ink you thinking?” Peter asked, gesturing for Kurt to sit on the chair. Kurt took the seat, trying to take calming breaths.

“White.” He decided firmly, and Peter nodded.

“That’s a good choice. Where do you want it?” Peter asked, pulling out the antiseptic spray. Kurt rolled his left sleeve up of his red letterman jacket.

“My wrist- so I can read it- bitte,” he requested quietly. Peter just nodded, spraying the area he was about to tattoo. Kurt swallowed once more, and as the machine started up, he flinched, eyes squeezing shut.

“Y’know- in my experience it’s not as bad if you watch the process. Less anticipation that way,” Peter tried to comfort. Kurt opened one eye and glanced over to the wrist, seeing that the needle was poised and inch above the skin.

“Am I okay to continue?” Peter asked seriously, and Kurt nodded, flushing a deep shade of purple as Peter gently grabbed his hand.

“Okay, I need you to not tense up, alright? If you tense up, it’ll hurt more and I’ve got a bigger chance of messing up- despite the simple design,” he joked a bit, rolling his eyes. Kurt let a weak smile touch his lips. He released the tension, his hand going slack. The initial start of the tattoo didn’t hurt- Kurt had personally been through worse, which caused him to relax. He glanced at Peter’s face, noticing the artist’s tongue was slightly poking out between his lips in concentration. The needle momentarily hit a sensitive spot, and Kurt hissed, resisting tensing. Peter squeezed his hand gently for reassurance, not once breaking rhythm.

Five minutes later, Peter was finished and let go of Kurt’s hand.

“There we go- all done,” Peter exclaimed happily, a grin on his face. Kurt, who had been distracted by the bright smile, glanced down to his wrist to see the light mark marring his wrist. He let out a shaky breath. It still looked a little messy. Peter approached and gently took Kurt’s hand again, cleaning off the tattooed area with green soap before rubbing some bepanthene over it and covering the small area with a bandage.

“You should remove that after an hour to let the skin breathe. You should lightly wash the area three times a day, pat it dry, and reapply the bepanthene until it heals,” Peter explained, also handing Kurt a card with the instructions on, as well as the tube of bepanthene he’d used. Kurt swallowed and nodded, standing from the chair and reaching to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. Peter waved him away, however.

“It was a tiny tattoo- I don’t expect you to pay for that,” he implored, but Kurt shook his head.

“I vill most likely be back to add more. I can’t possibly not pay you!” he replied earnestly. Peter grinned and chuckled however.

“I’ll charge you for the next one then. Honestly I don’t mind!” he reassured. Kurt nodded, slowly putting his wallet away. Not before taking out thirty dollars, however, and stuffing it in the tip jar at the front desk. Peter rolled his eyes and followed Kurt through the door, watching him leave and the sway of his hips. Kurt turned around sharply, making Peter’s eyes snap up to meet his.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name,” he asked apologetically. Peter’s face split into a grin.

“Peter Maximoff.” Kurt averted his eyes at the brightness of his smile, a small one threatening to take over his face.

“I will see you soon then, Peter Maximoff,” he said, before waving and disappearing in a puff of blue smoke. Peter’s jaw dropped as he stared at the place the blue mutant had just been.

“Keep that up and you’ll be catching flies,” a voice startled Peter out of his stupor, and he spun on the spot to see his sister smirking at him from the staff room. She laughed good-naturedly at his glare before going back to her game.

“Du bist so in ihn verliebt.”

“Halt die Klappe, Wanda!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt arrives for his second tattoo, and Peter gets an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out- i went on holiday (where i wrote 90% of this chapter) and work has been kicking my ass (seriously today is the only day i have off for 10 day). anyways- I'll try my best to update more frequently, as i have all chapters planned out! Thank you so much so far for all the kudos' and reviews- they honestly made my day <3

"Nice tat," Logan muttered lowly from next to Kurt. Kurt nodded and continued with what he was doing in silence.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to count," he added, obviously trying to get an answer out of the younger man. This rattled Kurt, who tensed before relaxing.

"I'm not. I'm the kind to atone."

Logan raised an eyebrow, but eventually shrugged, raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

"Whatever. Target's east three degrees, five hundred meters-"

"Ja, I have him."

"Then take the damn shot, kid!"

The sound of two rifle shots pierced the night air.

No-one was found on the roof that night, but a light smell of sulphur lingered.

* * *

 

The rest of the week passed by with no more unusual requests by unusual patrons. Peter was beginning to think that Kurt coming in was either a fluke, or a weird twist of fate. It was only when he walked in the next week looking a little worse for wear that Peter decided it was a weird twist of fate, and not a fluke. Peter smiled as Kurt walked through the door, bell tinkling again. Wanda was currently in the back with another patron, rolling her eyes at his whimpers as he was getting a tattoo of a phoenix on their arm, his girlfriend holding his free hand.

"Kurt! You're back!" Peter greeted, grinning. A weak smile touched Kurt's lips at the cheerful greeting, but his eyes remained sad and tired.

"Hallo, Peter," Kurt replied, voice straining. Peter's smile slipped slightly at the tone.

"Everything alright? How's the tally?" He asked, trying his best to keep the mood light. It seemed to be the wrong thing to ask however, as Kurt's eyes became more downcast at the mention of the tattoo.

"About that- if it's not too much trouble, I need two more added," he requested, voice almost a whisper. Peter swallowed but nodded.

"No problem, buddy. Just need you to sign the sheet again," Peter instructed, already in front of Kurt with the clipboard and form. Kurt skimmed the form before signing, handing it back to Peter almost as quickly as he'd been given it.

"Awesome! Come on through, we only have one other person and Wanda's handling him," Peter explained, waving Kurt into the back room. Kurt followed, dragging his feet only a little. On instinct, his eyes were drawn to the other couple, and when the redhead spotted him, she took a deep breath. Kurt frowned, a nervous twist growing in his gut. She only looked away when her presumably boyfriend squeezed her hand.

A hand clasped down on his shoulder, making him jump and he turned to see Peter smiling at him.

"Same place and colour?" He asked gently. Kurt nodded and went over to the other chair, still with the nervous feeling. The station was prepared as it was last time, and Kurt pulled his sleeve up, revealing the one other singular line. Peter got to work immediately, his professionalism shining through as he prepped Kurt's wrist in almost no time. The salon was quiet except for the sound of buzzing needles, so Peter decided to break it.

"So, what are you counting?" Peter asked casually. Kurt had to physically stop himself from flinching but his mind was screaming at him to tell someone- _anyone_ \- about his situation, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he tried for a grin.

"The amount of tattoos I have," he lied. Peter stopped his machine and glanced up to stare at Kurt, who had tilted his head in confusion. It wasn't long until he burst into laughter, scrunching his eyes up in joy. He was laughing so much it hurt, and tears had sprung. Wanda looked over from her station with a disapproving frown, not noticing how pale the girl next to her patron had gone. The boy Wanda was working on had also snickered a bit, but it was nowhere near as loud as Peter's amused laughter. Kurt tried to shrink away but Peter was still holding his hand. The movement alerted Peter, who sobered almost as though he had been dunked in a pool of cold water.

"I-I'm sorry- that was a jerk thing to do," he stuttered, eyes wide, cheeks burning with shame. Kurt wasn't faring any better, a purple blush covering his face. An awkward silence settled over the studio as Peter started his machine back up, biting his lower lip in anxiety. Kurt, however, was trying to calm his rapid heartbeat that had taken off at the other man's laugh. He'd looked so carefree and happy- and Kurt had caused that with his silly answer. It was then that he felt guilty about the lie, about enjoying his time counting his sins when it should be filled only with reflection and grief. He lowered his eyes to the floor once more and willed the blush away and for his thoughts to clear. Wanda cleared her throat and turned to Kurt.

“So what made you want to start counting?” she asked, trying to clear the air. Kurt looked over to her, but she was concentrating hard at her task. 

“It vas impulsive. Mein Freund had some and I vandered vat it vas like,” he confessed, if only half-truthfully. Logan had many tattoos, but instead of counting victims like Kurt did, he had dates inscribed that obviously meant something to him. Despite the fact that he and Kurt were (literally) partners in crime, he had never shared what those dates meant, but occasionally another would be added to the ever-growing list on his bicep. 

Wanda hummed quietly and nodded, the silence returning to the parlour, with only the occasional hisses of pain from the other patron. Kurt then turned to see Peter working in silence, moving onto the second tally of the three. Once all was done, Peter repeated the aftercare routine with a small flourish, and Kurt smiled gently back at him.

“Danke,” Kurt mumbled, looking down at the two new permamnent marks. Peter smiled. 

“No problem! I do have to charge you this time though,” he reminded with a small chuckle. Kurt smiled weakly in return, pulling out his wallet. 

“I vouldn’t expect any less. How much?” he asked, following Peter from the studio and back to the front desk. Before he could even blink, Peter had calculated the amount. 

“Forty-five dollars, if you’d please,” he requested, and Kurt nodded, pulling out a fifty. Peter’s eyes widened, catching a glimpse of the notes stuffed into the wallet. Kurt handed the note to Peter, who took it almost dumbstruck. 

“Keep the change, please,” Kurt told him. Nodding silently, Peter almost had to pinch himself when Kurt then placed another twenty in the tip jar. 

“I vill see you soon, ja?” Kurt asked, tilting his head. Peter had to swallow a couple of times before finding his words.

“Y-yeah! Sure thing!” he replied enthusiastically. Kurt grinned at Peter before once more disappearing in a puff of blue smoke.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was setting and Peter closing up shop when the bell above the door tinkled. Peter looked up from where he was logging off his computer. 

“Hey man we’re closed now,” he told the two that had entered. They were men in their late forties; one short and the other tall. The short one smiled at him, placing two fingers to his temple. 

“Very sorry to intrude, Peter, but we think you may be able to help us.” He spoke with and English accent and his blue eyes glittered when Peter was taken aback that he knew his name. Peter steeled his resolve however, and sped over to the door, opening it for them. 

“Well, any help will have to wait until morning. When we’re open,” he narrowed his eyes. The tall man let out a bark of laughter, waving a hand, making the door slam shut. 

“I think you misunderstand the gravity of the situation,” he smirked. Peter swallowed nervously, trying to think of all the advantages of the shop and how he could escape. 

“We only want to ask you a few questions, Peter. Please don’t run,” the short man told him. Dread curled in Peter’s stomach. Could he- 

“Read your thoughts? Yes I can. And my friend here can control metal,” the English man spoke again. Peter felt himself pale. 

“Please, calm yourself. My name is Charles Xavier, and the man next to me is Erik Lensherr. We’re mutants- like you.” The man- Charles- explained. Peter backed down to sit at the chair behind the desk. 

“So, what can I help you with?” Peter asked, resigning himself to the coming interrogation. Charles reached into his jacket pocket and Peter tensed, acting instinctively and reaching to grab Charles’ wrist. Before he could do anything further, however, he felt a cold pinprick at the back of his neck. The result was a standoff with Erik holding one of the larger tattoo needles in place with his powers and Peter still holding Charles’ wrist in a tight grip. They were stood at an impassefor almost a full minute before Peter reluctantly let go of Charles and Erik lowered the needle. Charles cleared his throat and continued with what he was doing in his jacket pocket, which turned out to be just removing a photograph. 

Peter’s heart stopped for a millisecond. 

“We were wondering if you knew this man here,” Charles stated, handing the photograph to Peter, who tried to steady his hands as he took it. On the glossy photo paper was a picture of Kurt, eyes unfocused and glassy, holding what seemed to be a medical clapboard . Peter swallowed. 

“Nope, never seen him before in my life,” he lied, earning a disapproving frown from Charles. 

“I didn’t want to have to use my powers to find out the truth, but this is a matter of national security, Peter.” Charles explained, raising two fingers to his temple once more. It was then that Peter cracked. 

“He’s a customer.” Peter blurted, panicked. Erik frowned, and Charles lowered his hand. 

“A customer?” Charles repeated. Peter nodded quickly. 

“He came in a couple weeks back for a tiny tat- tipped really well,” Peter explained- however, he wasn’t about to say anything else on the matter. Kurt already seemed to have enough on his plate. 

“And we also have a source that tells us he was here again today,” Erik cut in, not wanting to beat around the bush. Peter’s eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t appreciate people who spy on others for a living. Why is my shop being monitored?” he asked sharply. Charles just smiled wryly. 

“No-one is spying on your shop, Peter. It was just a coincidence. What tattoo did Kurt get today?” Peter clicked his tongue impatiently and folded his arms across his chest. 

“The same as he got the first time he came here- a tally mark; well, two tally marks today. The kid’s just counting how many tats he’s got. Weird, but not the weirdest I’ve done,” Peter explained, feeling as though this couldn’t possibly incriminate Kurt in any way. It seemed he was wrong, however, as Erik’s eyes widened. 

“Two tally marks?” he clarified. Peter sighed roughly. 

“Yeah, on his wrist where he got the first one. Look, I don’t see what this has to do with me- I just ink peoples’ bodies for a living. I’m no-one important! I don’t run a secret drug ring; I don’t tat criminals with the names of their victims- I just… do art. On people.” He explained, clearly losing patience. 

“We have reason to believe that the tallies aren’t counting tattoos, Peter. Last night two of my men were found dead, and there was nothing at the scene of the crime. The only way for them to have been shot from where they were was impossible to reach without some sort of mutant skill- say teleportation for example,” Charles explained, watching as Peter’s face fell further and further with every word he said. 

“I-it couldn’t be him! What other proof do you even have? As far as you’re concerned it’s all coincidence,” Peter stuttered. At this Charles sighed. 

“Because the girl who was with her boyfriend today is telepath and managed to read him when he was broadcasting his thoughts and emotions. Right now he’s dangerous, Peter- he doesn’t know what’s happening to him and we need to help him before anything worse happens,” Charles explained. At that, Peter went pale, his head feeling light. 

“She had no right to read him like that! That’s-” 

“He was practically screaming at her mind! I personally trained her to block thoughts out and to not instinctively read the thoughts of every person in the room. She wouldn’t have been able hear him if he wasn’t thinking so loud!” Charles finally snapped, and Erik placed a calming hand on his arm. The atmosphere of the room had lowered drastically, and both Charles and Peter were glaring at each other. 

“Now, you are going to give me all the details you have about Kurt Wagner, or I will be forced to get them the hard way,” Charles threatened, placing his fingers back to his temples. Peter glared, disgusted, as he went to the filing cabinet where he kept all paperwork and thrust Kurt’s earliest consent form back at Charles. 

“That’s all I have. You step in here again and I won’t hesitate to kick you out on your ass,” he spat. Charles nodded and smiled lightly. 

“That’s okay. Because you won’t remember a thing.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im internally screaming at how long this took to come out, especially considering how short it is, so i absolutely apologise for this. I hope to put more out soon as i have more free time <3 thank you so far for all the kudos' and comments- it honestly means so much to me that y'all are enjoying this! Hopefully next time you wont have to wait so long for another chapter ;_;
> 
> Translations at end of chapter!

When Peter awoke, it was to Wanda shaking his shoulder and sunlight filtering through the shop windows.

“Pietro Erik Maximoff! Did you sleep in the _parlour_?!”  she asked, scandalised. Head pounding and world spinning, Peter cracked open an eye to look warily at his sister.

“No.”

He took in his surroundings, confused. Wanda raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” he amended, unsure. At his answer, Wanda rolled her eyes and went about opening shop for the day.

“Honestly, I thought you were behind this. What made you want to stay overnight anyway? Surely the shop can’t be that interesting?” she asked, making a lot of noise as she set up. Peter flinched each time a loud bang happened, the noise echoing in his eardrums.

“Wanda, please- don’t make so much noise,” he complained, burying his head in his arms, wracking his brains for why he would’ve stayed overnight. A particular violent, metallic slam made him sit bolt upright.

“You didn’t come home last night! I was worried sick and you wouldn’t answer your phone!” she snapped, meeting him with an icy glare. At that, Peter flinched.

“I’m _sorry_ , Wanda. I can’t even remember how I fell asleep here in the first place!” Peter explained, hoping it would calm her down. It had the opposite effect.

“Were you _drinking_?!” she asked, outraged.

“No!” Peter yelled back, indignantly. Wanda huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Then why- pray tell- would you fall asleep at the shop with no memory of how?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

At Peter’s outburst, Wanda stepped back a bit, arms falling to her side.

“I’m going to check the security cameras,” she explained, turning on her heel and stalking into the staff room. Peter ran his hand down his face and sighed.

“Yeah, you do that,” he muttered, finally standing up and stretching the kinks out of his back that had accumulated after what was no doubt an uncomfortable night’s sleep. Not that he could remember, of course. He slumped forward again, still trying to remember the previous night. After tidying up, his memory went blank, no matter how hard he tried to remember.

“ _Scheisse!_ ” Wanda’s cursing broke Peter from his reverie and he leant back in his chair to try and spot Wanda in the back room.

“What?!” he called back, leaning his chair on two legs. Flustered, Wanda came storming back into the front of the store.

“The security cameras are screwed! None of them are working!” she panicked, pulling her hands through her hair. Peter wobbled on his chair, shocked, almost falling before righting himself. He stood abruptly.

“What do you mean they’re not working?” he asked. Wanda rounded on him.

“Exactly what I said. They’re _not working_. The circuits have been fried!” she exclaimed.

“Shit!” Peter exclaimed, scrambling to check the security system himself, Wanda following.

It was exactly as Wanda had said. The television screens that usually held the grainy security footage was showing nothing but static, and when he pulled up the error report, it showed them all ‘offline’. Peter groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Dammit, we’re gunna have to close the shop until this gets fixed!” he bemoaned. Beside him, Wanda huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’ll call them in- you can contact those with appointments today to reschedule,” she decided, and Peter nodded, rubbing his temples soothingly.

With the cameras out and all appointments rescheduled, Peter set about giving the store a deep clean- it took only ten minutes, but had him feeling much better. He was never one for messy spaces, despite all the junk that was piled up in his room of their shared apartment which he insisted was ‘organised mess’ to Wanda.

Five minutes later, Wanda emerged from the office, finally off the phone with their security company.

“They’ll be around tomorrow to refit the cameras and wiring, but we won’t be able to get the footage back from last night,” she explained sourly, obviously angry with that piece of information. Peter just sighed and collapsed onto one of the waiting couches, closing his eyes.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes, not seeing Wanda narrow hers.

“No. It is suspicious!” she snapped, making Peter jump. She didn’t even wait for him to question her before continuing.

“You pass out here with no memory of how or why on the same evening our security cameras go to shit- _Es tut mir leid_ , Pietro, but I call bullshit. Something strange is going on and I don’t like it.” Wanda deduced, glancing around as though she was being listened to.

“Why would anyone want anything from us? We’re just tattoo artists!” Peter implored as he sat up. Wanda scoffed.

“ _Mutant_ tattoo artists. It’s not as if we’ve ever gone out of our way to hide our powers! For all we know some hate group could be closing in on us. The security cameras could just be the start of all this mess!” she ranted. Peter’s eyes widened, and he felt his blood run cold. He refused to believe it.

“Wanda, _schatz_ , we’re in New York! One of the most liberal cities in the States!”

“That means fuck all and you know it! Just last week one of _our_ people was shot down for standing up for our beliefs! They were seventeen! Not even in college, and murdered for being different!” she raged. Peter had been cowed into silence, staring at his hands.

“Not everyone has invisible powers, Pietro,” she finished icily, before storming back into the office.

That night, rain poured down over the city as the unanimous decision was made that both siblings would stay in the shop overnight. They both took turns in shifts to watch as the other slept, and it was around three in the morning before anything happened. It had been Peter’s turn on watch when he heard a soft rapping of knuckles on the glass front door. Concerned, he slowly made his way forward until he could see who was on the other side. His eyes widened as he took in the familiar silhouette.

“Kurt?!” Peter spluttered as he fumbled to unlock the door. Kurt himself had to be dragged inside out of the rain, and stood in the entrance, shivering and dripping, staring at the floor. Peter was gobsmacked at the younger man’s appearance, not knowing what to do. Eventually he noticed the puddle accumulating on the floor.

“I-I’ll go fetch you a towel,” he stuttered, taking his time to actually walk over to where the towels were stocked, and making his way back at the same speed. He handed the towel to Kurt, who held it limply in his hands. Confused, Peter leant down to see his face, and was horrified by the expression he saw there.

Pure terror.

Kurt’s eyes were wide, and his face was pale, sweat lingering on his brow. What made it worse was the specks of blood that adorned his face. Now that Peter actually looked in the dim light, he could see that Kurt’s hands were bloody, as was his jacket. Peter choked on air, stumbling back slightly, hitting the metal desk. The clanging seemed to startle Kurt, as he looked up sharply, eyes still wide before they landed on Peter. For the first time that evening, Kurt spoke.

“ _Wo bin ich?_ ”

Peter froze in place. Kurt blinked back at him, seeming to come out of a trance, looking around at his surroundings.

“ _Wer bist du? Wo bin ich?_ ” he repeated, seeming to become more distressed. It was then that Peter was spurred into action.

“You’re at a tat-”

“ _Bist du sprechen Englisch?_ ” Kurt interrupted, confused and shaking.

“ _Ja_ \- yes. What’s the last thing you remember?” Peter asked, trying to gauge what was going on. Kurt frowned, face scrunching up in concentration.

“ _Ich-_ I vas at the circus. I live in the circus. In Munich, _Deutschland_.” Kurt stressed, and Peter went pale.

“Dude, you’re in NYC, America right now. You’ve got a couple of tats off me in the past few weeks.” Peter explained carefully, trying not to upset Kurt any further. It seemed to have the opposite effect however, as Kurt paled further. He let out a small whimper before stumbling towards the waiting couch and sitting down.

“I- I’m in America? I have _tattoos_?!” he seemed horrified, staring at his hands before clasping them together in prayer. Peter placed a calming hand on Kurt’s shoulder and knelt down so he could look him in the eyes.

“Hey,” he said gently, shaking Kurt’s shoulder slightly.

“Hey man- listen to me. Everything’s gunna be okay. We’ll find out what’s going on and try to get you home, alright? We’ll find your circus in Munich and before you know it you’ll be back where you want to be, okay?” he reassured. Kurt looked up from the ground and locked eyes with Peter.

“God bless you, _mein Freund_. You are too kind- what is your name?” he asked, finally seeming to calm down. Peter smiled, a sad twinge teasing at the edges at being forgotten.

“Peter Maximoff. What’s yours?” he asked, wanting Kurt to at least have control over introducing himself to others. Kurt smiled weakly.

“Kurt Wagner! Though in the Munich circus, they call me the Incredible Nightcrawler!” he said, with a small amount of flair, as if it was a well-practiced and loved routine. Peter’s smile grew at that, and he stood from his crouch, stretching up.

“Well then, Mr Incredible Nightcrawler, if you want to stay here for the rest of the night, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll go grab some blankets and you can steal the pull-out couch in the break room.” Kurt smiled gratefully, also standing before he swayed on his feet. One of his hands went to his temple and he hissed in pain. The hiss then became a cry, and Peter dashed over to him, hand outstretched to comfort.

His hand hit a cloud of blue smoke as Kurt disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Es tut mir lied - I am sorry.  
> Schatz - treasure (an endearment)  
> Wo bin ich? - Where am I?  
> Wer bist du? - Who are you?  
> Bist du sprechen Englisch? - Are you speaking/talking English?  
> Ja - Yes  
> Ich - I  
> Deutschland - Germany  
> Mein Freund - My friend

**Author's Note:**

> TEMPORARY EDIT: author's note: as of 20/7 i'm going to be on holiday for two weeks- but hopefully by the time i get back i would have written two more chapters on my phone! sorry you have to wait!!!


End file.
